The Sunless Citadel
by Hidden Ranger
Summary: A band of adventurers find themselves in a small village called Oakhurst currently dealing with goblins, treeblights, and more. Please review if you will. The rating may go up later for violence.
1. Chapter 1: The Road from Springvale

This is certainly a work in progress, considering it describes a current D&D game in which me and some of my friends are involved. Chapters will be told from the perspectives of different characters, but I don't know that I'll have any specific order to how they rotate. The campaign is from an adventure book our DM has called "The Sunless Citadel" (hence the title).

I don't own D&D or even most of the characters and places mentioned below. Doran Coll is my own creation, while the other main characters are my friends'. Anything original in the world will be pretty derivative, but I hope you enjoy the story.

* * *

Call me Doran. I am proud to claim allegiance to the ideals of justice and protection as a minister of Saint Cuthbert, Lord of the Cudgel. Through his strength I've broken the enemies of my roving, and as long as my devotion continues he will never forsake me.

For several years I've wandered the land, staying mainly in the more populated regions of our world. I enjoy my solitude and love exploring, but I have no special delight for the treacherous wilderness. And how am I to protect the weak if I go where no men dwell? I had recently passed through Springvale to see my former colleague Father Abban, but to my dismay he was no longer among them. His neighbor—though unaware of his true occupation, I am sure—told me the good priest had sold his property in the village and been away for several months. I said a brief prayer to Lord Cuthbert on his behalf, but I knew that my friend was quite skilled and should be faring well.

Thus with an unfulfilled heart I left Springvale, hoping to find dear Abban elsewhere in this world. My purse was very light, so I decided to take the road to Oakhurst in search of a commission. My brothers had supplied me well when I first left, but my trip was stretching much longer than I'd foreseen. I prayed that Saint Cuthbert would smile on me as I began this new piece of my journey. Oakhurst, it seemed, would supply my fortunes, at least in the near future.

The first day passed quietly until afternoon, letting me enjoy the bright sun and moderate exercise. The quietude loosened my disappointed mind. It was late afternoon when I heard a party of four or five on the trail behind me. I watched them draw nearer for a while, and they made no effort at stealth. This led me to two possible conclusions. Either they posed no threat to me, or they were powerful enough that I would pose no threat to them. I carried far too much equipment to outpace them, so I requested a blessing from Saint Cuthbert until I could discover their purpose.

The prayer was timely, for a crossbow bolt sped by and glanced off my divine armor. I hoped the protection would hold true for a little while longer, but no further shots came from the group. A rather slim, blonde man with a flail ran in my direction, shouting a strange mixture of apologies and threats. "Peace to you, sir," I returned loudly, holding my empty palm up toward him.

The adventurer, breathless but wary, stopped a good ten yards away. His weapon dangled menacingly in his hand, but he did not attempt to strike me—not that he could have quite then. "Do you mean it?" he asked between gasps of air.

"My word is my law, and I do not give it lightly." The man accepted my answer and relaxed, so I continued my introduction. "I am a holy cleric of the righteous Saint Cuthbert of the Cudgel, journeying from Springvale to Oakhurst. I rarely stay in one place too long, but I roam throughout this world and alleviate the evils I may, though this current quest may involve more working to feed my body."

"Very wordy, fair priest," the man replied. "But an okay quest to have. Barty T. Bard, poet by trade," he said, offering his right hand. I clasped it firmly with my gauntlet and bowed. "It's good to meet you, I think. We're headed to Oakhurst as well, but you can probably come along if you want. There's safety in numbers, and you might get along with Palanob fairly well." He turned to rejoin his companions before looking back at me. "Wait a second…I didn't happen to catch your name."

"Call me Cole—Doran Coll, if you will," I told him, catching myself. "It's an abbreviation for Doradhan, but you're welcome to use the shorter form in addressing me," I added.

"Well, Mr. Coll, let's go meet the others." Barty led me to the rest of the waiting group, who thankfully took no further shots at me. Three men of various ages and a small woman with a peculiarly mystical appearance watched us approach. One of them had a lute out and was strumming a light-hearted song. The other male travelers twirled their daggers listlessly. The woman remained silent and aloof, face half-hidden beneath her heavy traveling cloak.

"Palanob, Swanky, weapons away," the minstrel called, and his associates complied. "We have a friend among us." The two stood to greet me as Barty introduced us. The heavily armored warrior, sword belted to his waist, extended his hand first. "This is Palanob, our paragon of virtue," Barty quipped. "Y'all might have some things in common, since it's his job to uphold good and be all holy and whatnot." The paladin smiled and gripped my hand firmly.

The rather creepy young man in black kept his distance from me while Barty presented him. "This is Swanky the Cunning, or so he thinks." Swanky grunted and turned his back to us. The bard whispered, "He can't really remember anything about his past, but he's fairly skilled. So eager to kill, though. I keep an eye on him when I can spare it." I noticed a gleam in the hunter's face that unsettled me, and I knew I'd keep Barty's words in mind.

The other musician stopped playing long enough to welcome me. "I'm Gallant Ladiesman 'the Irresistible,' " he boomed with an extravagant sweep. The lump of soap that fell from his pocket simply complemented his image, though I doubt it was with the same intention he'd hoped. "Umm, I may need that later," the bard muttered, but other items tumbled around him as he scrambled to replace his inventory. I left him to his fumbling as Barty brought me to the last of their group.

"Kahlan Amnell." The name chimed suddenly from beneath the hood; she hardly even waited for our arrival. Her enchantingly soft voice surprised me before she revealed her face more clearly.

"A Half-elf!" I exclaimed. The girl's heritage was clear. Underneath her coat she passed for a petite human, being taller than her elven ancestors, but she still bore a trace of that race's remarkable charm. I'd had some contact with Elves during my wanderings and even learned their language from rigorous study, but their compelling beauty continually amazed me. I'd learned that they cared little for human deities—including my own—but Half-elves are a less predictable sort, and I doubted my godly faith would interfere with our relationship.

"_Doradhan Coll, honorable cleric of Saint Cuthbert, at your service, lady,_" I hailed her in the Elven tongue. She seemed surprised but a little pleased and coolly smiled at me.

"_Well met, traveler,_" Kahlan replied. She turned to an intrigued Barty, switching back to Common to engage him. "So he's safe, then?"

"If he's telling the truth. The problem is that good liars seem honest, too, you know?" Barty shrugged. "Either way, he's only one guy. I don't care if he does have the gods on his side; he can't take us all." The minstrel realized I was still standing there and laughed. "I'm sure you won't cause us any trouble, Mr. Coll. It'll be nice to have a cleric along with us if we get hurt. You can heal, right?" I nodded yes, and he continued. "At the very least, you can keep Palanob over there company with your sermons."

"You have my word as a priest that I will help as I can," I affirmed. "Though it seems that _you_ might have more need of my sermons than a holy warrior of righteousness would." Kahlan smirked at Barty's scowl.

"As long as you can keep his ego in check, I'll be glad if you want to come," she informed me. "And if that's settled with everyone else, I think we've waited here long enough. Oakhurst awaits."


	2. Chapter 2: Arrival

As a note regarding the last chapter, Doran's real name is actually Cole Damhnar, but he uses his alias most of the time. When he introduced himself to Barty, he momentarily forgot about that.

This dialogue-heavy chapter comes straight from the mouth of Barty T. Bard, intrepid adventurer.

* * *

"So what do you think, Kahlan?" There wasn't much to Oakhurst, but I guess it was as good a place as any. Not many places left in the world I haven't seen, actually, though it would've been fine to miss this one. At least it was something different after putting up with the rest of them. That cleric is a little too sour for my tastes—Palanob has done a good job keeping him company, though—and Swanky's nuts. And if I hear one more song…but Kahlan's been the easiest to get along with so far. It probably helps that we share a similar heritage and have been wanderers in this world. That's why I tried talking to her to keep my sanity.

"Quaint," the Half-elf replied. Okay, so her answers were always pretty short, but she _was_ halfway intelligent. "Where are we going when we get there?"

"Probably the tavern, as long as we can avoid another sermon by St. Cuthbert back there." I was glad we were a ways ahead of the others. Also, that the wind was blowing toward the town instead of carrying my words back to them. Thank Agnos for small miracles. Actually, not at all since he doesn't work them. "It'll be a good place to get information and buy any supplies we need," I continued absent-mindedly. "Are you as ready for some fresh faces as I am?"

She smiled a little, but I couldn't really tell what she was thinking. Maybe ready to be free of my company, too. She has a very thievish look about her, and I try not to trust a thief farther than I can throw one. Too bad she wasn't a gnome.

Not to be annoyed, I decided to examine the town and its surroundings. Oakhurst wasn't very large, so I got a good look at a lot of the area around. A thick forest stretched out to the east and resumed far to the west. I thought I saw a faint trail running northwest through the second stretch of trees, but I wasn't too sure. Scattered farms filled the space up to the forest and probably on the far side of Oakhurst as well. Most of the buildings were pretty plain. I noticed a gated house standing prominently above the others, and what appeared to be a sun temple to Pelor, but that was everything interesting.

By the time we reached town, we'd agreed to find the tavern first and see what was there. Thankfully, Kahlan offered to pay, which brought everyone, even Doran, on board. He, Palanob, and Kahlan went straight to the barkeep for food and drinks, Gallant started singing again, and Swanky wandered around to talk to people at the bar. I hung back until my comrades finished buying everything, then went to talk to the bartender myself.

"Barty T. Bard, my good man," I introduced myself. He finished cleaning out a mug before reaching across the counter and gripping my hand in a massive handshake.

"Name's Garon," he grunted; then he went back to cleaning.

"Well met. A nice little place you run here." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a very large drunk wobbling menacingly toward Gallant. He was obliviously chatting with a woman that may have been the burly stranger's girlfriend. Not that I hoped anything bad would happen to him, of course, but Garon waited, regardless of what happened to my clueless companion. "Do you happen to know where I could find some sort of adventure around here?"

"Do you really want to know about all of that? There's a lot of talk about the band of goblins living in the ravine down the old road a ways. They come into town every so often to trade, but lately things have been getting out of hand. We think there's war between the goblins and kobolds, but it's hard to be sure. Only a few brave souls have tried to figure out what's going on down there, and none of them have yet come back. Also, some of our livestock have been turning up dead lately in the mornings. We're not sure who or what's to blame, although it could just be the goblins themselves. Still, it's become quite a problem."

"I see." His tale intrigued me, but a band of goblins at war in a canyon? A little more adventure than I hoped for at the moment. "What more can you tell me about the animal killings?" I asked, pursuing the other goal.

"Not a whole lot, really. They mostly turn up torn to pieces, and we haven't seen a lot at night. Some kind of creature, though. If you like, you can try talking to the Mayor. He's sitting over there at that end." Garon motioned to a sad, well-dressed man farther down the bar. I thanked him and went to talk to the unhappy magistrate.

"Oh, hello," he sighed when I introduced myself and sat down. It wasn't hard to see they had a problem, and I asked him about the creature attacks.

"The bartender mentioned Oakhurst has a problem with someone killing animals lately. Is there anything you could add to that?" I wondered.

"Oh, I don't know…we think there's some kind of goblins or something…yes, probably goblins." The Mayor suddenly began sobbing into his drink. "What am I supposed to do? I'm the mayor of this town and can't even keep things under control. Every day, it's just goblins, goblins, goblins, and how am I supposed to fix it?"

I'll admit he surprised me a little, but this was the perfect chance to make some gold. "Well, Mr. Mayor, as it just so happens, I'm the leader of a group that's just arrived in Oakhurst, and I think we could try to solve this little livestock problem for you. How much could you pay us?"

"How many of you are there?" he asked.

"Me and five of my friends. Of course, I'm not sure they'd all be willing to help, but I think I could persuade them to give it a shot." I offered my warmest smile while the Mayor did some figuring.

"Hmm…well, I think if you can find out what's been causing these attacks and stop them for us, I could pay you as much as 100 gold per person who helps. Does that seem fair to you?"

"It sounds fine to me, but I'll have to talk to the others to see what they think. Will you be here all night?"

"Oh, no, no. In fact, I was just about to go home for the evening. Come see me there if you decide you want to accept the hunt. It's the big house at the end of the road; you can't miss it." With that, the official, looking remarkably livelier, left the tavern and headed home.

I hated to waste any time, so I tried to gather the others for a quick conference. I dragged Palanob and Doran to a small table and pulled Gallant away from another lady before he got us all into trouble. The other two were nowhere in sight, however. "Where are Swanky and Kahlan?" I asked, wondering just how big a headache this party would become.

"I saw Swanky go out a little while ago," Palanob answered, "and I'm pretty sure Kahlan went to find him. I shudder to think what he could be getting himself into…"

"Don't we all," Doran muttered darkly to himself, but I paid him no mind.

"Regardless of where they are, we need to discuss some things. I don't know what y'all have been doing, but I was talking to the Mayor, and he said they're having a real problem with some kind of creature killing their animals at night. He said he could pay 50 gold to each of us who wanted to help." Maybe it seemed a little dishonest, but who would've been harmed if I'd lined my pockets a little more? I'm sure they would've been glad to help Oakhurst out even for that price. Right? "So if everyone's interested, I could go to him later and take him up on the offer. He seemed kind of touchy, though, so it'd probably be better if I went by myself. I don't think he'd like for all of us to show up unannounced at once."

"I've been talking to a man named Bruno who's been having this same problem. He asked me to spend the night at his farm to try to stop whatever's been killing his chickens, and he offered me a gold piece for the trouble," Palanob explained. "I already agreed to go with him, but if you want to talk to the Mayor and then meet me there, that's fine with me."

"Well, I'd like to go see the Mayor myself," Gallant offered. "I mean, I don't want you to go there and him only think there's one person helping with this. I'd like to make sure I get my share, you know?"

"Really, I already told him there were six of us, and I think that'd be okay—" I tried to say, but no one was listening to me anymore.

"I've agreed to go with Bruno to help him, so I'm doing that. He said he'd leave as soon as I was ready. I'm getting to stay in his barn, but he probably wouldn't mind if someone else wanted to come, too," Palanob repeated.

"And I definitely want to get my share of the payment if we're going to figure out what's been killing all of these animals," Gallant insisted. "We can go to the Mayor and arrange for everything. We can try to come find you later."

"It's not necessary. I'm sure he wouldn't want—" I tried to say uselessly, but they still weren't listening. What was wrong with those people? It was almost as though I'd ceased to exist. Still, I figured that my con was pretty much up, so I'd just have to bluff my way through the upcoming meeting. Hey, any traveler could get a price confused, right? I was about to ask Doran what his opinions were and see where he'd want to go, but then our comrades Swanky and Kahlan walked through the door, looking strangely frustrated over something.


	3. Chapter 3: Setting Up Plans

This next chapter is told from Kahlan Amnell's point of view. And yes, the name is taken from Terry Goodkind, though I don't know how much of the personality.

* * *

Oakhurst's tavern was entirely uninteresting, which fact I discovered soon after purchasing meals for my companions. I had to glare at Gallant for buying a drink for some inebriated wench, but I let him do it anyway. A rather large fellow eyed him suspiciously, and I hoped that woman wasn't his girlfriend, for the bard's sake. I had no interest in standing around to protect him, though, so I wandered over to a couple of aristocratic ladies talking in a corner. They paused to peer over their noses at me but otherwise ignored me, going back to their conversation.

"Who are you?" I asked. Their mouths dropped open (either shocked or offended, I'm sure), and the one on the left gave a haughty snort.

"Excuse me," she thundered. "How dare you interrupt a private conversation like that! Who are _you_ to do such a thing?"

"My name's Kahlan. Kahlan Amnell," I answered calmly. I think my indifference may have upset them more, but at least they were talking to me.

"Well, my name is Amelia, and this is my sister Obelia," the woman responded indignantly. "But this was a private conversation, and you had no right to intrude, you little half-breed!" The two spinsters rose and stormed out in a huff. Strangely enough, Swanky saw them leave and followed them out the door.

I mingled with the other villagers for a while longer, but when Swanky didn't return, I grew worried. No one else seemed to have noticed his departure (maybe they just didn't care?), so I took it upon myself to find him. He'd do something completely fanatical if he wasn't watched carefully; I was sure of it. And while I admit that I took whatever opportunities fate gave me, he seemed entirely, perhaps even violently, insane. He told us he'd been stricken with amnesia and remembered nothing about his past, but even so I still don't understand why we agreed to travel with him.

Uproar in the street drew my attention. Two town guards were busy lifting a pale form from the ground, and one of the women (did it matter which?) I'd talked to earlier looked on hysterically. She sobbed and moaned as they carried away what I presumed to be her sister. I called to another nearby guard and asked him about the commotion.

"Someone psychopath tried to assassinate this lady here," he answered grimly. "The fiend attempted to slash her throat, but her sister Amelia screamed and drew us to him. We tried to chase him down but lost him somewhere in the shadows or back alleys."

It certainly sounded like Swanky. I decided I'd have to conduct my own search. "Will the woman live?" I continued, unsure of whether I cared or not.

"She's badly hurt, but we think she'll pull through," he replied. "We drove him off just in time and managed to stop most of the bleeding." The haggard soldier shook his head wearily. "It's a shame that we have this kind of thing even in a small town like Oakhurst…goblins killing our sheep and whatnot in the night, and now a would-be murderer among us…" He muttered to himself further as he walked off to escort the still-frantic Amelia home.

After making sure the guards no longer noticed me, I quickly explored the closest alleys for signs of Swanky. It didn't take long before the prospective assassin leaped at me from the shadows, kama in hand. He stopped when he saw me, however. "Swanky, you idiot! What were you thinking?" It wasn't even that I cared about the woman's life, but if he endangered all of us by association…

"I'm sorry," he offered sheepishly. He seemed just like a little boy caught playing in the mud in his best clothes. Still, I couldn't let him off completely.

"Next time you want to kill someone, be sure to tell me first," I grumbled. "Now come on and don't hurt anyone. I'm sure the others are wondering where we are right about now, and we don't want them to get suspicious." I dragged him back to the tavern without further incident. The rest of our group was already discussing our next course of action when we arrived.

"Good to see you," Palanob remarked as we entered. "We've been talking about this problem Oakhurst's having with their livestock dying. Something seems to be killing them in the night—probably goblins. One of the farmers here asked me to spend the night at his place and thwart whatever's causing the attacks. Gallant and Barty are going to talk to the Mayor and accept his payment for our help." I noticed that Barty seemed unusually glum about this turn of events—had he somehow angered the Mayor already? I thought it was worth my time to figure this out.

"I'll be glad to go along with you two and speak with him," I offered willingly. Besides, an audience with the village leader should certainly prove more interesting than helping a poor peasant.

"What are you going to do, Doran?" Barty sighed, turning his attention to the priest. I got a feeling that the grim cleric had said little so far, and even then he took his time answering. His quietness unnerved me, since he was the kind with an unshakeable soul. Those green eyes swam with deliberation.

"Since you're asking my will, I shall go with good Palanob to help this poor man," he mused. "I consider it my duty to help those in need, and he may have need of another arm this night. If he will let me stay, I am going with them." Doran slammed a gauntleted fist onto the tabletop. "We shall deal with these intruders as befits their violence." No, he wasn't easing my apprehensions about him at all.

We finally split up a few minutes later. Barty, Gallant, and I headed toward the Mayor's estate, while the others followed the inebriated farmer to his lands. For a fleeting moment I wondered how wise it was to let Swanky alone with two devout crusaders, but I quickly dismissed my fears. Surely he wouldn't do anything stupid. Again. In one day. All right, so my worries weren't easily dismissed.

We arrived at the Mayor's after a short walk. The gate was unlocked and unguarded, which surprised me a little, but I wasn't in charge of security. I guess Oakhurst didn't get disturbed very often. We went through the gate carefully and rapped on the paneled doors. Moments ticked by, but eventually a stiff-backed butler answered the knock. "Yes, who are you?" He peered down his nose at the three of us.

Barty stepped forward. "I met the Mayor in the tavern a little while ago," he explained, flashing a charismatic smile. "He said you had some problems around town, and I offered my friend and myself to help. He told me to come here if I wanted to, and I've brought some of my companions so we can discuss things a little more fully."

"Just a moment." The man disappeared behind the heavy door for what seemed like ages. I'd almost fallen into a trance when the door creaked open once more. "The Master will be with you momentarily," the snooty servant told us. He showed us into a stylish reception area. Two large couches were arranged on opposite sides of a small table, and a thickly-padded chair sat at the head. Three or four paintings decorated the walls, one of which showed a man and woman that I assumed must be the Mayor and his wife. A staircase trailed up to an upstairs hallway, and judging from the doorways at least three rooms lay situated around the foyer. A delightful aroma of roast pig wafted from one of them, making me realize just how little I'd eaten that day. The butler scurried into the kitchen and left us to wait.

While we sat, I noticed a small dish of chocolates sitting on the low table. They looked tasty, but the Mayor walked in at that moment and I decided not to eat any in front of him without asking first. He seemed very distracted and greeted us very briefly. "I appreciate you coming like this. I'm sure Oakhurst will be very grateful for your services. We'll reward you, of course." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "What did we agree on…Barty, was it?"

He thought about it for a moment, but Gallant was there to step in. "It was 50 gold pieces for each person who helped, I believe."

The Mayor appeared puzzled. "Really? I was sure we'd decided 100. I'm willing to pay that, but if you'd care to go lower"

"No, no, that's quite all right," Barty answered hastily. "I must've just gotten it wrong earlier. I'll hear one thing and remember another all the time. I'm horrible like that."

"Oh well. 100 gold each it is." The Mayor seemed understandably glum at missing a chance to pay us less, but I figured there wasn't much he could do about it. Those animal killings had probably cost Oakhurst hundreds or even thousands in gold already, and he needed to solve that problem. "If you need it, I'll even forward you a little for supplies and give you a voucher with Garon for three nights stay. Any more than that and he'll have my head. Jives!" His butler reentered and stood at attention. "Please give this group twenty gold pieces for accepting this task and see if they want anything to eat or drink." The servant nodded and left, and the Mayor turned back to us. "I'm sorry, excuse me for a second," the aristocrat muttered, leaving again.

We stared at each other in silence for a minute or two before Gallant turned his attention toward the chocolates. "I love these things!" he said, stuffing several into his mouth. I was about to eat one myself when the Mayor returned with a small pouch of money. I didn't think he'd appreciate me helping myself uninvited, so I kept my hands to myself.

"I'll just leave this here by the door," the Mayor told us, leaving the purse there. It crossed my mind to see if I could find the man's safe, but I knew I probably wouldn't get an opportunity. "Maybe this will compensate for some of your troubles. I'm sure it'll come in handy, especially if it takes you a few nights to figure things out."

"Well, we're happy to help," Gallant answered him. "Oh, and by the way, these chocolates are delicious."

A strange look came across the Mayor's face. "You didn't…_eat_ any of those, did you?" No one answered him, but he could easily tell the truth. "Oh dear, I should have warned you. Those chocolates are drugged. You see, my wife and I like to play tricks on each other, and I know she's very fond of candy…"

"Oh. Well, it's a good thing I only had one of them," Gallant replied as his eyelids began to droop.

"Yes indeed. Only one, you say? Well, you'll probably be okay then. If you'd had two or three, that might be another story." No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than the bard fell asleep and landed on the ground with a thud. "He doesn't have a very strong constitution, does he?" the Mayor remarked, still believing Gallant's lie.

"Nope," Barty answered as I suppressed a giggle. "So, uh, can we just wait around here until he wakes up?"


	4. Chapter 4: Of Twigblights and Hen

I know it's been a long time since I've updated this story. Sorry to anyone who was enjoying it. It's been a long summer for me and one mostly without an internet connection. Thanks for the reviews; feedback is nice to have.

This next chapter comes from the mouth of the valiant Palanob, champion of justice.

* * *

I was surprised that Swanky wanted to go with Doran and me, but after the others left we found Bruno and went on our way, too. I was glad to have help along, even though I was sure Heironeous would give me a victory if the creatures showed themselves. I admit that I was barely tested in combat, but my training had taught me the basics of swordplay and other fighting techniques. My pure heart would also be a line of defense against any evil tides, but a powerful cleric and cunning stalker couldn't hurt. I assumed Bruno wouldn't mind, especially as he said nothing when I joined him with my companions. He was pretty drunk, but I guess he'd had practice getting home like that. Indecent behavior, but it was his choice.

We made small talk along the way to the farm. Bruno was certainly an "interesting" character, but nothing would have prepared me for what Swanky suddenly did. The scoundrel took out his crossbow and fired at our host. The bolt sank into Bruno's right shoulder, and the hulking drunk charged Swanky. Doran recovered first, swinging his mace and missing the dancing miscreant. I brought out my punching dagger and stabbed Swanky in the side, and the distraction let Doran's mace come crashing onto the evildoer's skull. Swanky collapsed instantly from that final blow.

Bruno kicked at the body a little, but he was too drunk to harm the fallen rogue very much. I debated his fate with Doran while Bruno removed the bolt from his arm. "Should we kill him now?" the cleric wondered aloud. I wasn't sure what had caused Swanky's attack, but I hated to kill a helpless opponent.

"I think we should stabilize him and take his weapons. He can't do much to us if he has nothing to fight with." I looked to Bruno for suggestions, but he simply grunted and moved to stab Swanky with the bloody dart.

"Let's not do anything hasty," Doran soothed, taking the bolt away. He stepped between Bruno and Swanky's fallen form. The drunken farmer eventually calmed down and grunted in distaste. I watched Swanky in shock, astonished that any human could act like he did. I wiped the blood off my dagger and sheathed it while Bruno cooled his rage.

"We'll leave him here," Doran decided at last. "He attacked us unjustly, so we shall leave his fate to the gods. And let us hope that no evil demons come to rescue him this night…"

The three of us trudged the rest of the way to Bruno's, intent on solving this nocturnal mystery. When we reached the farm, Bruno showed us to the barn. "You can sleep here," he grunted.

"So I have permission to remain here and assist Palanob?" Doran asked. The farmer eyed him skeptically for a moment before shrugging.

"Sure, why not? Why do I care who's here? Just don't expect any more money," he grumbled and went inside.

"Lovely gentleman," Doran muttered to himself as I got out my bedroll. "We should probably have at least one of us keep watch at all times," he remarked when he saw what I was doing. "We don't know for sure when these creatures will show, and someone needs to be ready for them."

"I agree, I'm just getting ready for when I want to sleep." The older man seemed a little annoyed, even though nothing in his face or tone gave it away. Maybe I was just imagining things, though. He'd been nothing but courteous and respectful to me as far as I'd seen and treated me very kindly because of my calling. I had to be imagining it.

"If you'd rather sleep now, I'll take the first watch," he offered, and I accepted the suggestion. I was already a little tired, so I gladly went to sleep.

"Palanob! Awaken!" It seemed like only a few moments had passed before Doran was hurriedly shaking me. His face bore a strange fear, and I saw deep scratches on his arm. A fight was close at hand.

"What happened?" I asked groggily. I shook off my sleepiness and looked around for my weapons. Thank Heironeous that my sword and shield were still nearby. I quickly snatched them up.

"I found some kind of—well, it's like a demonic shrub," the cleric answered. "It was raiding the chicken coop when I interrupted. It attacked me, and I ran back to rouse you." He shook off his panic, then moved back out to confront whatever creature he'd found once more. I followed my comrade to see a gnashing tree stump with limbs spring toward us. The creature scratched Doran's shield uselessly before turning its attention to its latest attacker: me.

I stabbed at the monster, but it proved surprisingly nimble for a stiff block of wood. It clawed me, and I felt its sickening poison infect my veins. Doran grazed it with his mace but did little more than knock a few chips off its body. This creature ruined our best efforts to hit it, darting underneath our weapons and scratching us when opportunities presented themselves, until I finally swung with all my strength and landed a single blow that split it in two. Splinters flew from the body and sap spattered against the ground.

The minister and I looked at each other in amazement after the fight. "I have no idea what that was, but excellent blow," he congratulated. "I think we've discovered the culprit behind these nocturnal incursions." Doran put his mace back into his belt, wincing from the wounds he'd suffered. "I'll have to mend those," he declared and healed himself before my eyes. The scratches scabbed over and disappeared into healthy flesh.

"Very impressive," I said. "Now can you help me out?" Doran laughed and healed my cuts as well. I felt so much better and took over watching for the cleric. He gratefully went to sleep in the barn while I kept an eye out for more wood-creatures.

I didn't have to wait long. In a short time I heard rustling in the chicken coop, so I woke Doran up. "We should get Bruno," he said after grabbing his mace and shield. I followed him to the door, and Bruno arrived in his nightcap after we banged on the door.

"Yeah?" The farmer was very sleepy and not at all happy to see us.

"Bruno, we found this...thing in your chicken coop. You should come immediately, as we believe more have just come to your farm to steal your hens," Doran told him. I'm not sure how much he understood, but he grabbed a sickle and followed us to the barn. We showed him the creature's fragments on our way to rescue the other chickens. Bruno heard loud clucking and charged ahead. Doran and I went right behind him.

When we reached the coop, we saw three more demon-shrubs busy killing their prey. They quickly turned to us as soon as we arrived, fangs bared and leaping. I caught one of them against my shield. Its weight popped my shoulder, and I smelled the foul odor of blood from its mouth and claws. The thing scraped my arm, and I felt poison weakening me. I shrugged off its effects and swung my sword. My blow glanced off its woody skin harmlessly. With a squeal, the creature attacked again, but I dodged. My next stroke fatally split its head, or what passed for one. Sap oozed from my opponent's broken body, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Doran smash another in the back as it clawed at Bruno. The other already lay in a puddle of sap, crushed to pieces by a heavy mace. The battle was over.

Bruno surveyed the henhouse carefully. The farmer dropped to his knees in grief and picked up the body of a dead chicken. "Henrietta!" he cried tearfully. He brought the hen to Doran. "Can we...can we bury her tonight?" he asked. "She was my favorite." Bruno led us outside, sniffling the whole way, and found a shovel from his barn. He cleared a small hole, and in no time at all Henrietta was laid to rest on his land. The farmer looked at Doran carefully. "Would you mind saying a few words? You're a man of the gods, after all, and it would mean a lot to me."

Doran's look told me his true feelings, but he cleared his throat all the same. "Henrietta was...a good hen," he proclaimed somberly. "She...gave her life to save the other chickens when they needed it most." He might have gone on, but Bruno completely broke down and started bawling on his shoulder. I couldn't help it. I started laughing under my breath, but I don't think Bruno even noticed in his grief over the lost Henrietta.


End file.
